Whenever You Need Me
by Kadi219
Summary: Raydor/Flynn - Picks up after Season 3, Episode 2 and then goes a bit A/U. Possible spoilers. What is need? There are different kinds, and Andy is certainly going to be there for her. Rated M for content.


Whenever You Need Me

by Kadi  
Rated M

Disclaimer: If only… but they are not mine. I'm only borrowing for a while, and I promise to return them.

**A/N:** Inspired by the gorgeous image created by **kate04us**. This story picks up after Season 3, Episode 2, and then goes decidedly AU. Possible spoilers.

No beta this time. Mistakes are all mine. It's been _years_ since I went beyond my usual Fade to Black habit, so I might be a bit out of practice ;-). Please heed the warning. Enjoy!

* * *

Humidity filled the air around the city. It became thick and oppressive. Storms built off the coast, the clouds growing dark and ominous. It was rare that they ever reached the shore, but the promise of it made the air sizzle. Currents flowed, leaving tempers high and emotions frazzled. It presented as a busy week for the homicide detectives. It was a little disheartening at times to know that by the time they became involved a life had been lost. They could only speak, and seek justice for the deceased.

It wasn't only the dark nature of their work which had sent Sharon onto her balcony that evening. It was a conglomeration of a lot of different issues. Much like the the storm which was building to the west, rolling inward but never seeming to reach land. It sent a breeze inland, teasing, lifting her hair away from her face. The distant rumble matched her mood.

Rusty's mother had returned, and with her all of the uncertainty and hurt that he worked so hard to put behind him. Those wounds, never quite closed, were gaping open again. He was trying so hard to be the responsible, mature young man that she had watched him become these last two years. She worried for him, for the answers he sought. For the events which might still have the power to crush him. His mother appeared to be trying, but that was the nature of addiction. Life itself could seem just fine... until the bottom fell out from beneath you. One moment you were solid, secure, and the next... floundering in a river of hurt and uncertainty.

He'd hidden it from her. Not for very long, but somehow he thought she might be hurt or upset by his mother's return, and that she might think it meant he was leaving. Oh, that boy. Would he ever know how very adored he was? Perhaps. He seemed to understand when she said she didn't need anything from him. She had him. That was enough. She wasn't his mother, on that they could agree. But he was her son. Certainly the child of her heart, if not her body. Perhaps she should have been angry with him for hiding the truth of his mother's return from her, but she couldn't find it within herself to be even remotely upset. Not about _that_. No, not at Rusty. The situation, yes. His mother, most definitely. Provenza for keeping the secret, maybe, although she understood the lesson he was attempting to teach in that. That alone stayed her temper. He needed someone like that in his life. A father figure... or maybe a grandfather figure was more accurate a description. His own had proved to be an epic failure, and there was none that she could provide for him. Jack was completely out of the question. He wouldn't be bothered with his own children, much less a child she had acquired that was not his.

_Jack_.

Another reason for the downward spiral of her mood. The wind lifted her hair again and she exhaled into it. Her eyes closed. She lifted her face toward the darkening sky, as though the approaching storm sensed her mood and was drawn to it. There resided within her such a flux of changing emotions where he was concerned. Resentment. Pain. Anger. Love.

Of course she still loved him. Otherwise she wouldn't be so very angry at him. She would have grown indifferent long ago. She wasn't _in_ love with him anymore, of that she was more than certain. It was just exhausting, this ongoing cycle of regret, promises, and abandonment. She had done her due diligence, hadn't she? She waited. She was hopeful. Until hope turned to resentment and thoughts of him no longer made her ache with loneliness, but with regret.

She wanted more. She longed for more. It was a physical ache that ran deep. There were times when she asked how much longer she was meant to suffer for her own shortcomings. For not being strong enough to save him. For simply not being _enough_.

There had come a point when her own sense of self preservation had kicked in. She had turned her attention to her children and her career and left Jack floundering in his addiction. She told herself that _he_ had left _her_. He made his decision, she was making hers.

It might have been a mistake.

It didn't matter now.

She was making another decision.

Sharon knew that she could say it was for Rusty. She could claim it was for her older children. The children that Jack had sired and abandoned, just as he had abandoned her. The claim would be more or less true.

She was doing it for herself. She wanted more. She _needed_ more. Perhaps for the first time, she was beginning to realize that she deserved more.

All she had to do was reach out and grasp it.

Although to what end? That question had held her back for some time now, months. It was an uncertain future which lay ahead of her. There was a part of her which still wanted to shy away from it.

She was still married. Even if the divorce papers had been filed. There was no finality there. She knew the act would bring Jack to her door. He would turn her life on it's end, complicate it, create chaos where finally there was order. Just as he always did.

Thunder rumbled, much nearer now than it had been. Yes. The approaching storm matched her mood. She drew a breath and the air was thick with it. Her eyes lifted to the sky. It seemed so confined, stifled somehow, these clouds which darkened and moved overhead. If only it would burst forth, drench the world around her, and then they could both be free.

Rusty watched from inside. He held his knapsack over his shoulder. He was going out this evening, and he wondered if she remembered, or if he should disturb her to say that he was leaving. He worried his bottom lip with his teeth. She had been out there for sometime. Sharon had gone out there when she got home. She hadn't spoken much, only to exchange the usual pleasantries and to make sure that he was okay. She was always making sure that _he_ was okay. He wondered about her. Sharon took care of everyone around her, but who took care of Sharon?

He felt guilty for wanting to go out. For already having plans, and wondered if he should cancel them? Should he stay home with Sharon this evening... but then, she would only retreat to her room, he knew, or tuck whatever was bothering her away as though it didn't exist at all. Rusty's shoulders slumped as he sighed. This wasn't like her, she seemed so lost, but he wondered if she even knew? She had gone out to water the plants she kept out there, but then she hadn't come back in. Rusty hadn't noticed immediately, and maybe that was the point. He sighed again and shook his head.

He started toward the balcony door, but the doorbell drew his attention. His gaze moved to the door, at once apprehensive and hopeful. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and changed directions. He walked toward the door and opened it.

Rusty's eyes widened. Definitely hopeful. "Lieutenant Flynn." He blinked away his surprise and stepped back.

"Hey, Rusty." He stepped through the door and glanced around, quickly. "She here? I've got an update she wanted before the end of the day, and she isn't answering her phone." He scowled, a bit irritated at that. She was dealing with a lot lately, he knew, and he tried to push his annoyance aside.

"Uh, yeah.. she... yeah." Rusty gestured toward the balcony. "Her phone is on the bar. I guess she didn't hear it. It must still be on vibrate, I didn't hear it either. Sorry." This was his out, and as guilty as he felt about it, she wouldn't talk to him. Even if he tried to push the issue, she wouldn't do it. "I was on my way out," he said quickly. "You can go on out if you want, uh... I'll just go, and let you talk about, you know, whatever. Tell Sharon I'll be late..." Rusty moved past him out the door. "It was good to see you, Lieutenant," he called back as an afterthought, quickly making good his escape.

Sharon wouldn't talk to him, Rusty thought again, but she would talk to Flynn. Right? There was something going on there, or so he thought. They were spending a lot of time together, so, maybe they weren't exactly _dating_, because this was Sharon they were talking about... but they were at least friends. Friends talked about... things. Yes, he would leave her with Flynn. Flynn could take care of Sharon. He hoped.

Andy watched him go and shook his head. He was moving as though there were flames licking at his feet, he couldn't get out the door quickly enough. There were times when he still didn't understand that kid. There were others when he thought he understood him a little _too_ well. He saw his children in Rusty. That same hurt, the same disappointment. It was in the way he once made excuses for his mother, the same way that others had made excuses for _him_. Perhaps that was why he had pulled back, tried not to get too close. He was disappointment enough to his own children, Rusty didn't need that in his life as well.

Or maybe he felt a little guilty, felt as if he needed his kids to see him as solid _first_. He needed to be there for them, before he could be there for another. Even if it was Sharon's kid. _Especially_ because it was Sharon's kid. She'd been there for him lately, she was putting a lot of belief in his ability to make things right with his family.

He didn't want to let her down.

It was going to happen. God only knew that his amazing ability to screw up would rear it's ugly head soon. It was just too much apart of him, this ability he had to blow his own life apart the moment it was going good. He was his own worst enemy. He knew that all too well. But he was trying.

It was important. His family needed that… and Sharon. _Sharon_ was worth it.

Andy moved quietly through the apartment. He saw Sharon standing on the balcony. Her hands were gripping the railing and she had her face turned toward the sky. Her shoulders seemed slightly hunched, though, as if there were some great weight bearing down on her. He supposed that there was, with everything that was being tossed her way lately. It seemed as though they'd only had a mild reprieve after the preliminary hearing and catching Weller. Now life seemed to be… he wasn't sure, tossing everything it had at her again.

Their more recent cases were evidence enough of that. Then to toss the kid's mom into all of that. She could put on a show with the best of them, hide behind that Captain's mask of hers. Andy had seen beyond it, for just a moment, in the morgue he had seen all of the worry and the heartbreak of that situation shining in her eyes, and then she had turned away from him. She had hidden it, and… he got it. He did. She was putting Rusty first. Just as she always did, had from the beginning. She was burying her own feelings on the matter, even if that meant hiding them from everyone. Including him.

He stopped near the bar, and just as the kid said, there sat her phone, along with her glasses. She didn't often abandon it. He knew _that_ well enough. Sharon always answered by the second ring. Even before joining their division. Even when she wasn't on call.

Andy smirked a bit at that. There had been times in those days when he had called her anyway, to report a use of force incident, just to poke at her. Maybe it wasn't so odd that they were doing… whatever it was that they were doing now. There was always _something_ there. He poked at her, and she poked back, and well… he'd never admit it openly, but there had been a time or two he would pick a fight with DeNichols down in Narcotics just to screw with her day. There were just some lines that couldn't be crossed. You didn't get in bed with Internal Affairs. Besides which, she was married.

_She was married._

He frowned as he approached the balcony door. She stopped using that excuse when he suggested getting dinner. Maybe more interesting was that Gavin had been by the office a couple of days ago, and then today, she left early for an appointment. If there was something happening on that front, she'd never mention it. It simply wasn't like her. Andy slid the balcony door open and stepped through. She was still such a mystery to him. Even when he thought he knew her, she could surprise him. He was rather liking that.

Sharon started a bit at the sound of the door. She drew a breath and stepped back from the balcony. "Rusty, I'm sorry, I know you were wanting to—" She had already half turned and stopped upon realizing that it wasn't her son joining her. "Andy." She was surprised, there was no doubt of that, but she almost cringed at the near breathless quality of her tone.

"Kid let me in, on his way out," he said, gesturing behind him. "I uh… you weren't answering your phone. Look, Sharon, I won't stay long. I just wanted to—"

"It's okay." She interrupted his rambling. There was a small smile tugging at her lips. He did that, when he was nervous. She wondered if he even knew. She turned back to the balcony. The temperature had dipped, and she felt the first few drops of rain hit her hand where it rested against the railing. "I was only—" She hesitated a moment, and then added, "watching the storm. I miss a good rain storm."

"Yeah." He walked over and leaned against the rail nearby. "Looks like the bottom might fall out any minute now. This one has been trying for a while." The clouds were rolling overhead, rumbling in the distance was getting nearer.

"It has indeed," she murmured quietly. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. The wind ruffled his shortly cropped hair. Sharon smiled at that. It was more silver now, but it looked good on him. She quickly averted her gaze before she could be caught staring at him and drew her bottom lip between her teeth. What were they doing? What was _she_ doing?

He felt her gaze, but he let it go. If she needed that subterfuge, then so be it. Andy watched her gaze drop, watched her stare at her hands, folded together now atop the rail in front of them. He sighed quietly, the sound lost in the rumble of nearby thunder. "Sharon." He waited until she looked up at him. "Are you okay?"

So simple a question, and yet, the answer was anything but. She didn't know what to tell him, what she could say that would put his concern to rest, or which would allay her own turmoil. Instead, she shrugged a single shoulder and hummed quietly. "I'm…" She smiled a bit tremulously at him. "I'll be fine, Andy. I'm just… having a day, I suppose."

"It seems like you've been having a few of those," he said pointedly. He frowned down at her and took a step closer. "Look, Sharon, I meant what I said. If you need—"

"I know." Her hand slid forward on the rail until her fingers lightly brushed his. "I think—" When her voice hitched alarmingly, she looked away again and shook her head. Sharon thought better of what she had been about to say. She thought maybe that was part of it. She needed him, and she wasn't at all sure that she could have him. Or that he _should_ have her. He'd worked too hard. He deserved better. It wasn't that she was insecure, but she knew that she could be difficult and that she came with a certain amount of baggage. Although, who didn't? The emotions swirling inside her coiled tightly. Just like the storm it was threatening to break loose, only this cloudburst she was struggling to hold back.

It alarmed him that she was so uncertain. He had never seen that of her before. Andy had seen her sad, upset, and even angry. Never had he witnessed her so unsure of herself. Andy reached out, and before he could stop himself or think better of it, he slid a finger beneath her chin and tipped it back up. "Hey," he said softly. He moved closer, so that the wind whipping through the buildings around her complex would not carry the sound away completely. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

She exhaled quietly and lifted a hand to curl around his wrist. Her thumb slipped beneath the cuff of his dress shirt to lightly caress the skin just below his watch. "No," she said softly. "I can't." Sharon knew that if she told him what was in her mind, and in her heart, she would be crossing a line that she wasn't at all sure that she was ready for. Even if he seemed to beckon at her from across that divide, however narrow it might have become.

He felt the shudder that ran through her when his hand slid along her jaw and into her hair, to cup her head gently in his large palm. Clarity came like the lightening that was streaking across the sky at the far edge of the city. Whatever this _thing _was that had started to develop between them, she was struggling with it. He realized in the same moment, that she wasn't struggling _against _it. His thumb stroked the curve of her cheek. His head bent and he sighed her name. "_Sharon_."

"I know." Her eyes closed. There were raindrops on her face when she tipped it up. The sprinkles which fell around and onto them were large, and growing in frequency. "I'm sorry," she said thickly. "I'm still—"

"Married," he finished for her. Andy should have known that touching her would be a mistake. Now he felt as though it would physically pain him to move away from her. The intensity of her gaze burned. Her eyes were a deep, moss green, and this close, he could see the gold flecks which lit them, gave them such life. He closed his eyes, their cheeks barely brushed. He could feel the short, moist puffs of her breath against his jaw. "You're still married," he repeated, as if trying to remind himself of that fact.

"Yes," she whispered. "It… I…" She couldn't speak. Sharon shook her head. She felt dizzy. The wind was cool, but suddenly she was engulfed in a wave of heat that left her breathless. "For now," she added in a low voice, feeling some innate need to reassure him. To reassure herself. "The papers are filed." Sharon's eyes opened and she looked up at him, suddenly unsure again. He had a reputation. It was a rather well known one at that. Did he want her simply because he could not have her? She would be divorcing Jack regardless, this wasn't for him, it was for her. But was she putting herself in a position to be hurt again?

It was only astonishment which looked back at her. It filled his dark eyes. There was a part of him that didn't actually believe that she would ever take that step. She had lived this long beneath the shadow of her marriage. She had wielded it like a shield, one which was now cracked and crumbling away. "You filed?" At her silent and slow nod, he turned his face into her hair. His lips only just brushed the hairline above her ear. The muscles in his arms and back bunched as he struggled to restrain himself.

"_Andy_." Her hand still held his wrist. The other had lifted to curl around his bicep, just above his elbow. She let out a shaky breath. Her head turned, as she sought his gaze. Their noses brushed, and she exhaled quickly. Short ragged breaths, that was all that she was capable of. His eyes opened and the desire she saw in them had heat curling in her belly. "We can_not_," she said again, whether for him or herself now, she didn't really know.

"I know," he rumbled quietly. Even the act of speaking had their lips brushing in the faintest of caresses. "It's wrong."

"No," She whispered. "Ill-timed," she corrected. "I…" Sharon drew a breath when his arm circled her waist. Her jaw clenched. "You said that you would wait…" Her eyes dropped to his lips, just for a moment, as she gave his sweetly delivered oath new meaning. "In case I need you."

He groaned quietly. The woman could turn anything on a dime. It had always driven him mad, now was no exception. Even if he did rather like the way she was twisting his words this time. "Yes," He said. His hand slid up her back. He was rather fond of this blouse, and the way it hugged every curve. The abstract patterns of fading hues of gray and blue, mixed with black, complemented her coloring. He felt the shudder that ran down her spine as his fingers traced up its length. She always left it open, just enough for a glimpse at her cleavage. Just enough to tease. The muscles of his jaw twitched when he clenched his teeth together. He nosed her hair aside, it fell in soft layers today. His lips were gentle against her ear. Her perfume filled his senses. "I'll wait," he said thickly, quietly.

The low hum she made was almost a whimper. Her hand clenched tightly around his upper arm. The other moved to curl into the front of his suit. Her lips parted, but the words were not entirely within her control. "I need you."

With a loud clap of thunder overhead, the sky burst open. Rain fell in thick, punishing sheets. His hand in her hair, he drew her against him, even as his mouth angled to capture hers. She tasted just as sweet as he thought she would, of the tea he knew she preferred over coffee. Her lips parted for him and he drew her bottom lip between his own. He turned them away from the railing and pressed her against the sliding glass door. Both of their clothes were drenched in a matter of moments, the rain was unyielding, and cool against their fevered skin. Her hair fell in thick, sodden locks around her face, clinging to her cheeks and her neck. Andy lifted it, swept it back as both hands moved into her hair and tipped her head back.

She no more wanted him to stop than she thought she had the strength to ask. Her arms curled around his neck, and she could only hold on through the onslaught. Sharon shivered, from the heat rather than the rain, and choked on a low moan when his mouth moved across her jaw to her neck. He was chasing raindrops with his tongue, but his teeth grazed the spot just below her ear and her back arched against the glass behind her. Her nails scoured the skin at the back of his neck as her hands moved to grip his head and draw his attention back to her mouth. She pushed off the glass and pressed herself solidly against him, finding him warm despite the coolness of their drenched clothing. It tugged at her, the weight of it, from the silk blend of her blouse to the lace of her bra. Her breath hitched and she moaned again as the wet material rubbed against sensitive skin.

It was her neck that he wanted in that moment. She nipped at his lips, impatient when he tried to move away again. But she had teased him with it, that long graceful column, every time that she drew her hair over her shoulder he imagined burying his face against it. When she pulled at him, he curled his hands around her thin, delicate wrists and held them above her head. Andy hadn't realized that she could pout so prettily, which she did, when he lifted his head. He gazed down at her, watched the flash of desire and impatience in her eyes. His lips moved slowly to her jaw, and traced a slow path to her neck. His tongue traced the curve of her ear, and then he nipped it, before moving to sweep his lips down the curve of her neck. When her head fell to the side he felt almost triumphant. When her shirt got in his way, he grunted impatiently at the way the material clung to her skin. Unable to use his hands while they held hers, and knowing he couldn't trust her devious streak, he drew her away from the glass and turned her. He pulled her back against him and one hand splayed against her belly while the other tugged the blouse aside.

When his teeth grazed her collarbone she curled an arm back behind his neck, while the other gripped his forearm. The hand at her stomach moved slowly down, to the thin black belt she wore. He tugged it open and then pulled at her shirt, until her skin was exposed. Her head fell back against his shoulder at the first feel of his fingers against her skin. They moved slowly upward, and then stopped. Her back arched against him. She groaned plaintively, even as her breasts ached for the attention. Her hand gripped the back of his neck. The nails of her other pressed into his arm, through the material of his jacket. He only pulled her back, so that she was solid against him, and when his thumb flicked upward, over the tightly drawn nipple, she made a low, keening sound. "_Andy_…"

The plea was all that he needed to pull her around and slide his arm around her waist. He lifted her, while the other gripped the back of her head. Already her lips were swollen, either from their kisses or having bitten them, he didn't know. He had left the sliding door partially open and nudged it aside with his foot as he stepped through with her in his arms. The cool air of the apartment hit them and he felt her shiver in his arms.

The table lay between them and the hall and seemed as good a place as any. He dropped her onto it, and let his hands drop to grip her hips, even when her legs curled around him. He pulled her against him, while his head bent and he found her mouth again. Her hands pushed at his shoulders and when he realized that it was his jacket that she found so offensive, he helped her strip the sodden material away. He tossed it to the side, and it hit the tiled floor in the kitchen. Andy slipped an arm around her and pressed her backward, until her back was flush with the table. He bent over her and pushed her shirt upward, baring her stomach again, this time to his greedy mouth. His tongue danced around her naval, then higher, while his hands worked open the buttons of her blouse. When he parted the material and found her in sheer, black lace, heat shot straight through him.

Her hands moved into his hair, nails none too gentle against his scalp when his teeth grazed her nipple through the thin material of her bra. Her back arched off the table, she pressed against the bulging proof of his arousal, sought some way to relieve the ache within her. His questing hands slipped beneath her arched back and found the clasp of her bra easily, once it was open, and she was freed of it, she sucked in a breath at the sudden coolness that grazed her skin. Her head fell back against the table when his mouth closed over one, and his hand palmed the other. She might have said his name, but it was a strangled sound that she made. Heat pooled between her thighs, and her hips rotated in a slow rhythm at the near pain of her own need. He was going to devour her, slowly, methodically, of that she was almost certain. Whether or not she would survive it was another matter.

When his mouth left her breast to move to the other, she pressed both hands solidly against the table beneath her and pushed upward, until she was seated in front of him again. She shrugged out of her shirt and reached for his. The tie had to go first, and she tugged at it, while her teeth nipped playfully at his lips, and then her tongue delved into his mouth. Once the tie was gone, she worked open the buttons of his shirt. She slid her hands inside it the moment she had it open, found that her palms and the tips of her fingers tingled as they slid over his heated skin. His shirt was tossed aside, as hers had been, and she looped an arm around his neck. Their lips met again, meshed more slowly, the kiss far more languid than the previous had been as their bodies came together, skin on skin for the first time.

Her hands gripped his shoulders while his slid slowly up her back. He gripped her shoulders and drew her back, in a slight arch. Her breasts drug against his chest and they both groaned at the sensation. His lips left her mouth and moved slowly down the graceful column of her neck. His tongue swept over the hollow of her throat, and traced the line of each collar bone before he moved slowly back up the other side.

Andy pressed her back onto the table again, and held her there with a hand between her breasts as his other moved to the clasp of her dress pants. With his intent clear, she lifted her hips for him when he tugged at them, and then pealed the wet material down her legs. Her breath hitched when his hands slid back up her thighs, and over her hips to hook his thumbs in the sides of the matching black lace of her panties. He stopped then and his eyes lifted. Although they burned with an intensity that nearly stole her breath, there was a question in them too. He stood stock still between her legs and she could feel the current of arousal that flowed off him. It cost him, to offer her this out, to give her this chance to change her mind.

Her hands moved to cover his, fingers lightly brushing over his knuckles until they circled his wrists and held him lightly. She drew her lips between her teeth and exhaled slowly. Her back arched and she nodded slowly while lifting her hips for him. He drew the material down the long length of her legs and dropped it somewhere in the vicinity of their other clothes. She sat up slowly and reached for him. Her hands splayed against his chest and slid slowly downward to his belt. Their eyes were locked as she tugged at his badge. She slid it across the table, well out of their way. Then she reached for his holster. His eyes flashed when she lifted it away from his belt. In a small, closed bracket behind his back were his cuffs. Sharon placed them and the gun with the badge. Only then did her hands move to the clasp of his belt and trousers. Sharon continued to watch his eyes as she opened them, and without drawing the belt from his pants, she pushed the material down his legs. It went only as far as she could reach, and then her foot slid along his thigh and caught it, pressing it the rest of the way. He stepped out of them and they were kicked aside. She had always taken him for a boxers man and was not disappointed. Her hands moved beneath the waistband of the damp material, and felt him shudder as she pressed it downward, over the straining proof of his arousal.

They had grown decidedly less frenzied with the slow removal of their clothes, and Andy realized at once, he wanted to do this _right_. His back protested the effort, but he encouraged her to wrap her legs around him and lifted her. They moved through the apartment, and whatever spurred his thought, it must have been the correct one, for she rained soft kisses along his jaw until it was her turn to explore the length of his neck. He had been in the apartment before, but never beyond the outer rooms. She directed him to the end of the hall, and when he stepped into her room, he kicked the door closed behind him.

The bed, thankfully, was only a few steps away. He lowered her onto it and moved over her body. Later he would spend far longer exploring every curve, learning every aspect of her, but for now his hand caught her thigh and drew it high against his hip. She hummed in approval and then gasped when the tip of him nudged at her opening. She drew her leg higher and opened for him, as the other hooked around his thigh. His head lifted and with his weight on his arms, he watched her. Their eyes were locked, and shuddered in abject pleasure when he felt her small hand circle his length and guide him into her. It was slow going and she was tight, the urge to close his eyes and lose himself in her heat was strong, and he shook with the effort to suppress it. When she drew her bottom lip between her teeth and arched beneath him, a low, throaty moan rumbling through her, he thought he might lose it completely.

He wondered, only for a moment, at how long it had been since anyone touched her, and thought… what a fool he, for having abandoned her. With her hair, damp now and drying in the cool air of her apartment curling around her face and neck, her skin flushed with arousal, eyes dark with need… he couldn't imagine ever walking away from her again. Not now, not after having a taste of her. The walls of her body gripped him tightly, heat surrounded him, and she stretched to accommodate as he sank slowly home.

They lay like that, completely joined and utterly still. With their gazes still locked, he swept her hair back from her face. Her mouth opened beneath his, tongues teasing. Only when she shifted beneath him, with a low, throaty hum of approval did he finally move within her. Slowly, but with ever increasing tempo, until the earlier frenzy returned. Pleasure coiled tightly, all liquid heat and fire, and her hands found purchase in the bedding beneath her as she lifted to meet each deep, deliberate thrust. Their lips met again, open mouth kisses and nipping teeth, until his thrusts were no longer deliberate and she was half-sobbing for a release that lay just out of reach.

His arm curled beneath her thigh then, his pelvis tilted up, rolled, and she gasped loudly at the sensation. When he did it a second time, her nails bit into his upper arms as she held on, riding the plateau. Her thighs trembled as it coiled tightly within her, and for just a moment, she forgot to breathe. Then his mouth was against her ear, his voice a thick, low rumble that told her to let go. His teeth grazed her skin and when he surged within her again, his name was lost in a strangled cry on her lips as her body bowed beneath him. It swept through her, and the slick heat of her inner walls gripped him tightly in its wake, contracting wildly as she came apart beneath him. He moved over her and his rhythm was lost in the onslaught. He joined her a moment later, face pressed against her neck, arms wrapped tightly around her as the heat of it coiled and then broke, and he was left equally as spent, trembling atop her.

She'd have gladly let him stay there, his weight was not too considerable, and she enjoyed the warmth of him. As he slipped from her and rolled to his side, he drew her with him. Their hands did not grow idle, however. His fingers were feather light against her face as he stroked her hair back, and then continued to caress the familiar lines. Their legs were still tangled together, and when she shivered, it was from the coolness of the room. He drew her closer and she was curled against his chest, his arms around her. His lips brushed the tip of her nose and she felt a smile curve her lips in response.

Her feet were stroking his legs, one of them rubbed the inside of his right foot, and the other slid from calf to ankle and back again. His thumb traced the curve of her ear. They were watching one another, and surprisingly, she found that she felt no regret. She hummed quietly and tucked her head beneath his chin.

There were no great declarations of emotion. Not yet. _That_ was something they were most definitely not ready for. Still, there was one pressing thought on his mind. Something that he needed to know before this went any further between them.

His voice filled the silent room, thick and rumbling, with an edge of curiosity. "Now is it a date?"

Her forehead pressed against his chest. Her lips trembled with laughter while her shoulders shook. Sharon lifted her head a moment later and looked up at him, eyes dancing. "Only if you feed me," she drawled.

"We'll work on that." He wasn't getting up just yet.

"Hm." She tucked her head beneath his chin again and wriggled closer. She was in no particular hurry to get up either. They would need to, at some point, if for no other reason than to do something about the mess they'd left in the other room. That was something she'd like to have cleaned before Rusty got home. For the moment, however, she was content where she was.

"Sharon." He waited for her answering hum while his hands stroked her back, fingers moving in slow, lazy patterns against the soft skin. When the sound came, his lips pressed against the top of her head. "You're worth waiting for."

She felt moisture pool in her eyes. Emotion filled her, making her heart flutter in her chest. Her lips curved against his skin. She placed a light kiss against his chest, even as her fingers brushed against his warm skin, just above his heart. "And you are what I need," she murmured in answer.

A hand moved into her hair, fingers gentle against her scalp. They lay together in silence. There was no need for further discussion. They had always communicated easily enough without it. A look, a touch. When she shivered again, he reached beyond her for the edge of the quilt and tugged it over them. It barely covered him at all, but she was wrapped in its warmth. She made a low, small sound of approval and when he glanced down, her eyes were closed. There was still a small smile playing at her lips.

Overhead the storm continued to rage on. She had almost forgotten about it. Thunder rumbled, rain fell. Outside her window there was the occasional flash of lighting. It was a rare summer storm. It would be weeks, perhaps even months before they had rain again. Sharon listened to the sound. She no longer envied its freedom. Now, she reveled in it.

"Andy."

She waited while his fingers traced the length of her spine. "Yeah?"

"It was a date," she decided with a small smile. They had to start somewhere, and it was definitely a beginning.

~_FIN_


End file.
